Santa's Very Bad Night
by Robin Siskin
Summary: Santa visits Shinjuku. Hilarity ensues. Really. [AU, Oneshot]


It was a snowy, dark, rainy Christmas Eve night in Shinjuku. Santa flew down at a deserted intersection in his sleigh. The reindeer seemed uneasy. He supposed it was because of cloud of smog coming up from the buildings. He got out of his sleigh and slung his magical bag of toys over his shoulder and began walking around to find people who deserved Christmas presents. 

Almost as soon as his sleigh was out of sight he cam across a stumbling, apparently drunken man. The man was extremely disheveled, had an eyepatch, and somewhat resembled a manic preacher.   
"Excuse me, sir, are you all right?" Santa, always helpful, asked. He set down his magical bag of toys and approached the man.   
The disheveled man yelled something incoherent (something about throbbing desire?), flailing his arms and whacking Santa in his poor head, knocking off his hat with the adorable little pom-pom on it hand-made by Jesus on a rainy day.  
"OW!" Santa cried, and fell onto his flabby ass. He decided that it was good that he had eaten a couple extra cookies at that fat kid's house back in the U.S. He decided that this man was crazy and he should move on. As the man faded into the distance, Santa picked himself up and looked around for his magical bag of toys. It was gone. Santa would have cursed, if he was evil like the other man. 

Of course, he _wanted _to curse. It was starting to rain.

0000000000

Santa began to walk dejectedly in the pouring rain, looking for a place to crawl into and wait for the rain to stop. As he walked along he noticed movement in an alleyway, because Santa has mad skills like that. Wondering what the commotion was, he paused in his dejected wandering and peered down the alleyway, only to jump back and nearly scream in horror as blood splattered on an alley wall in the shape of a J. Another blood-splatter followed it, and two bodies hit the ground, and a man in a hat and a long coat walked out of the alley smiling quite pleasantly. Santa would have appreciated such a pleasant smile if it wasn't so creepy on a guy who had just killed two people.  
"You…what…you just…killed…what…" Santa spluttered pointing at the man who must be psychopathic, to have killed two people like that.   
"Good evening," the man said pleasantly, and Santa blanched in horror.   
"Are you going to kill me?" Santa asked, hyperventilating, his hands patting around his pockets for the emergency water gun he always kept on him. The crazy man laughed.  
"Even I wouldn't kill Santa," he said, and walked off. Santa stood there, shaking, until the man was lost from his vision, and then scrambled to the nearest pay-phone to call the police. Luckily a little boy who was dying of leukemia in Belgium who collected Japanese currency had given him some yen as a thank-you-for-being-Santa gift, and he dug out this currency and popped it into the phone.

"Hello, operator?" Santa said hastily into the phone.  
"Give me the police station. I just saw a man kill two people!"   
"Sir, please talk more slowly. I can't understand you."   
"But it's urgent!" "…look, buddy, it's Christmas."  
"I know! _I'm _Santa! If anyone knows I know!" There was a click on the other end. Santa waited for a few moments, thinking he was to be connected to the police station. The line was blank. Sighing, Santa put the phone back on the hook. 

"I need a drink," he said, and wandered off to look for the nearest establishment that offered alcohol.

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There was a shady little place that was apparently called the Honky Tonk from the sign outside of it. Santa decided he might as well give it a shot. At least it was lit inside.

The scene that greeted him was terrible. There was a spiky-headed man strangling a man in an atrocious vest, a woman who resembled a harlot (he suspected she was one) standing in the corner, underage girls serving alcohol, and a disinterested looking man behind the counter.  
"What…what is this place?" Santa gasped, taking a step back as the door closed so that his flabby ass bumped into the closed door.  
"Huh?" The spiky-headed man who was strangling the one in the atrocious vest turned around, looked at Santa up and down, shrugged, and returned to cheerfully wailing on the other one.   
"Welcome!" One of the underage waitresses shouted gleefully, running over to him in a way that made her boobs (which were small compared to the pair of jugs on the harlot over there but were still _there_) bounce up and down. It was sickening. "Please sit down!" 

Santa quickly sat down at the counter. When the seedy looking man behind the counter (Santa didn't trust people with sunglasses…it was just a thing he had) asked him what he was having, Santa asked for the strongest thing he had. It was served quickly, and Santa thought that maybe this place wasn't so bad. 

After he'd had a nice few drinks, he put some money (he still had some from the dying kid in Belgium) on the counter and went over to the woman who resembled a harlot.   
"Look, it's been a rough night," Santa told her, putting his hand on her shoulder and reaching into his back pocket with his hand. "Do you accept credit cards?"

What happened in the next five seconds, Santa wasn't sure about. All he knew is that his vision was suddenly willed with angry woman-face and angry woman-fist, and within a half a second he was crashing through some tables and into a window. He didn't bust through the window, but he certainly cracked it, and the entire joint went quiet for all of five seconds before conversation resumed. The seedy man behind the counter with sunglasses that Santa didn't trust looked up blandly.  
"You're going to have to pay for that." 

Santa screamed in rage and threw his wallet at the man and stormed out the front day. The waitress who had greeted him waved furiously at him as he left so that her ponytail shot back and forth. So did her boobs. It was sickening. Santa's face was twisted into a sickened grimace as he left. 

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As he was walking down the road, grubby, half-drunk, bruised, and penniless, he observed a couple walking down the road. It was not so strange, at first, until one of the couple bent down and promptly began to make out with the other. Upon coming a bit closer to the couple, Santa realized that it was an older woman and a younger boy. The woman was dressed like some sort of Muslim, non-Santa believer, and the boy was dressed like some kind of hobo, completely with head-scarf/bandana/whatever the kids were calling it.  
"My god!" Santa whispered to himself under his breath. "That boy appears to be no more than fourteen years of age, and that woman is well over twenty-one!" As he walked by the two he yelled "Sickening!" at the top of his lungs, at the sky, raising his fists in defiance of this town that seemed set on destroying his spirit. That was all good and well, until he tripped over a crack in the sidewalk (there were a lot of them) and went tumbling down, his fat rolls rippling in the wind left in his wake, his sparkling blue eyes widening, his snowy-white beard flapping in the wind, his bright red nose almost seeming to recoil in anticipation of the whuppin' it was about to receive.

CRASH BANG CRACK!

Santa smashed into the sidewalk! His nose was on fire! His face was cold! He could feel liquids that weren't completely water seeping into the parts of him that were pressed down to the sidewalk! His head was cold! He just KNEW his beard was completely dirty!  
Moaning, Santa rolled over onto his back and rubbed blearily at his eyes. The couple who had brought on his fall kept walking. Santa flipped their retreating backs the finger. Normally Santa didn't give the finger to anyone except his wife, but he was willing to make an exception now. He figured it was the proper kind of situation. 

He reached into his pocket to bring out his special reindeer whistle, and found it broken. He would have to search for the reindeer the old-fashioned way. 

0000000000

"Dasher! Dancer! Prancer! Vixen! Comet! Cupid! Donner! Blitzen!" Santa called, stumbling around the streets like the grubby drunken fat old fool he was. "Dasher!" he called again. It was futile. "Comet?" he tried. 

Eventually, after much wandering and stumbling and cursing, he found them. They were standing quite peacefully where he had left them, except for one thing…there was an obnoxious looking man, sitting in SANTA'S sleigh, looting through SANTA'S stuff, trying to giving commands to SANTA'S reindeer.   
"Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!" The stupid little man shouted. He had a very high ponytail that offended Santa. He wore square sunglasses that Santa would have distrusted even if the stupid strange little man was not driving in SANTA'S sleigh. "Shido-haaaan!" the stupid man yelled to the other man standing by the sleigh, examining it. "Can you make them go?" 

This was the final straw! Santa would not stand for his reindeer being touched! They were HIS property! He NEEDED them to bring joy to children around the world! This town had already stolen all of his money and his magical bag of never-ending toys! Must they take his reindeer, too!?   
"YOU!!!" Santa cried, running over to the sleigh and jumping in, rudely shoving the stupid man out of his sleigh. "GET OUT OF MY SLEIGH!" he screamed to the stupid man with the untrustworthy pink plastic rimmed sunglasses.   
"Holy shit is this one of those crazy homeless guys who dress up like Santa on Christmas so we'll give them money?" the stupid ponytail-and-sunglasses man said.   
"I am not a "crazy homeless guy"! _I _AM _SANTA CLAUS!_." Santa angrily jerked the reins of his sleigh, and the reindeer carried him high into the sky. "This city will never see Christmas again!" he screamed to them as he left, zooming over the town and away from that awful place. "You are terrible people and deserve NOTHING! You get NOTHING! I hope you burn in hell!" 

With that, Santa was gone. 

Far away (well, far away from Santa...) Amano Ginji was pressed against the front window of the Honky Tonk that had the shape of a fat old man traced out in it in cracks, looking up at the retreating sleigh.   
"Ban-chan I saw Santa,"  
"Shut up, Ginji," Ban said wearily. 

Every Christmas Eve from then on out, Ginji waited and listened for the reindeer to arrive…but none ever arrived. 

** -Owari-**

**A/N **– Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. They don't celebrate Christmas. But if they did, Ginji would so wait up at night for Santa to come…and since this has happened, well, I don't think Ginji's going to be seeing much of Santa or his magical bag of toys. / Not to mention the fact that it's in the middle of the summer that I'm writing this…oh well.

Also I realize this is terribly written but this is NOT serious at ALL and I do NOT wish to improve on it. It's over, done. If you want to offer criticism, please take it to one of my serious stories! They would appreciate the attention. :) 


End file.
